I promised that I would talk about if we got Grandmother to Hong Kong. It's been a long time; I wanted to take a break from blogging about her, and then Life intervened. But now I can write about her.
She did make it into the plane without incident and with the help of my sister, who was accompanying her. But it wasn't without its hiccups. For some reason, the flight out of MSP to Tokyo-Narita (there are no direct flights between here and Hong Kong) was delayed by six hours. So we spent the time, the three of us, just hanging out in the bowels of the airport, sitting, eating comped Starbucks and waiting.
Grandmother was fine, if a bit docile. My sister told me that the wait was going to get on her last nerve because she was afraid that Grandmother would be so needy that she would expend all the energy she needed tending to her on the plane tending to her at the airport. Grandmother continued her nasty habit of blurting things out of the blue, but I shushed her so as not to bother my sis.
So she wouldn't have to walk all through the airport, we got her a wheelchair, which allowed her to cut through the TSA line. Being pushed by an airport helper and with my sister supervising things, I kissed Grandmother and said goodbye. Typical of her state at the time, all she responded with was a grunt.
Standing at the edge of the ropes I could still see them go through security, my sister put her and Grandmother's valuables on the conveyor belt, and walk to the gate. At the conveyor my sister looked up and saw me and waved, either to say goodbye again or to shoo me away. I didn't budge until they were clear out of sight. Later, while I was loitering around waiting for my sis to call and say they're boarding, she called and ask me to get the belt she left at security.
I may never see Grandmother again.
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My sister gave me the numbers of the contacts Grandmother is now living with, her real son (home and work) and the maid he supposedly hired to take care of her. I tried calling her once, a couple months ago, but the language barrier was too great and frustrating to overcome. I haven't tried since.
About a month ago my sister e-mailed the family saying that not only is Grandmother fine, she says she's doing even better. Hopefully that is a result of her being weaned off the anti-anxiety and sleeping pills the nursing home put her on in order to control her. But I can't completely believe it because I don't think she witnessed this herself. More likely she just spoke on the phone with Grandmother's real son and that's why he told her. She could be worse.
But what can I do? I've been incredibly busy lately since I found work, and putting off attempting to call her again out of fear I now do easily because of fatigue. And I feel incredibly guilty. Maybe I can ask my parents to help me (by the way, I don't think they've even tried to call Grandmother, even though she is the woman who helped raise them when they were young), or my sister. But then I'm tired, and I figure I'll do it some other time -- pushing away from my mind the possibility that half a world away, something bad could happen to the person who raised me when I was young.
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The last day my sister was in town (this is after she came back from Hong Kong) we were eating at Dairy Queen and she said something that has stayed with me: After hanging out with her, she believed that Grandmother could not have stayed at home. I protested then and I still protest. All we have to do is continue to take away things that could harm her, us or the house and make sure she stays home, and we could continue to be a family, like we always were.
It's still clear to me that my parents didn't want to remain a family unit. But I wonder what my life would be like if she were still with us. I probably wouldn't have this job, for example. I might have to tend to her every need and thus stay home instead of wriggle away every afternoon. Or maybe I would leave her alone because I couldn't stand her, and maybe I would find a job.
Maybe my sis is right. Maybe she had gotten so mentally degraded that she would need care 24/7. It could have been so overwhelming that I wouldn't have been able to handle it. But because she is so important in my life, maybe I would have considered myself up to the challenge, and I would take my PCA duties seriously.
Maybe, maybe, maybe. And my guilt grows.
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